Title: The Ghosts Of Feastdays Past
Rating: M
Mood: a little melancholic, but overall fluffy
Words: ~5500
Author: sleepyowlet
Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to BioWare. I'm not making any profit.
Summary: During a trip through the Bannorn Loghain and Eluned Cousland are surprised by a snow-storm and have to seek shelter.
Babblerama: I want to make it about Christmas – sorry – Feastday, because this is a Feastday gift for Briala, who asked for some Loghain/f!Cousland as a second choice. I'm going with it, because that's what I do best. And be careful, this is very mushy. You might slip. This actually has four illustrations, and you can see the version with them in it on the peopleofthedfas group on dreamwidth.
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The Ghosts Of Feastdays Past
by sleepyowlet
The storm was getting worse, Eluned thought, as she trudged through knee-high snow behind her companion. But it could be worse, she supposed, she could be alone. He seemed to know where he was going, at least, Eluned had lost any sense of direction hours ago. As for being alone – in all other respects she might as well be. The forced intimacy of their journey had made her companion withdraw into himself more than usual, withdraw from that intangible something that joined them in their tent when they lay quietly next to each other, and the only thing that could be heard were the carefully timed breaths they took. More often than not she found herself cuddled close to his solid frame for warmth when she woke up, but neither of them ever mentioned it. In a way they were both careful not to step outside the bounds of their relationship as fellow Wardens; so careful, in fact, that they even lost the easy camaraderie that they had shared at the end of the Blight. In many ways they were back to step one.
Lost in her ruminations and almost blind and deaf with the howling of the storm, Eluned nearly bumped into him as he suddenly stopped.
"There is no sense in going on to the next town. We'll only get lost in that weather," Loghain Mac Tir said, turning around. His face was red where the frost had bitten into his skin, most noticeably in his cheeks and nose, and snow formed clumps in his hair where it wasn't covered by the hood of his cloak.
"So? Is there anything nearby where we might find shelter?" she asked, looking up at him hopefully. Anything to get out of this storm.
Loghain's face grew grim.
"Yes, there is. A farm-hold, just over that hill. It shouldn't take us more than a few minutes to reach it."
But that was good news, wasn't it? So why did he sound so unhappy about going there? Was he miffed about being delayed? They had hoped to be home at the Vigil come Feastday, but that wasn't very likely – be the weather fair or foul. The Grey Wardens had gone in pairs to systematically comb the Bannorn for signs of Darkspawn. This region with its fertile soil was most vital to Ferelden now, the next harvest just had to be a good one, or there would be a catastrophe come next winter. Eluned had suggested that they'd also do a little recruiting, but there had been a surprisingly harsh rebuttal from Loghain, that the land needed its farmers more right now than it needed soldiers. Recruits would be found aplenty in the towns surrounding the Bannorn and in Denerim.
They reached the main building of the farm as quickly as Loghain had said. Eluned expected him to knock politely at the door and wait, but instead he opened it, without even hesitating for a moment.
"But Loghain, we can't simply..." she said, grabbing hold of his cloak.
The only reply she got was a quick jerk that snagged the cloak out of her hand and an icy glare that made her fall silent. There was something strange here, she thought, something wasn't quite right.
They entered, but to Eluned's surprise nobody came to meet them with angry accusations or a puzzled welcome. The house seemed deserted which, too, was strange, because it looked well-kept. There was no sign that it had been looted, and there wasn't enough dust anywhere to suggest abandonment. The Darkspawn had passed the Bannorn by, they had found, the civil war had done more damage here than the Blight. Perhaps that was why Loghain was in such a black mood – he was confronted with the ill choices that he had made during his time as Regent.
"I suggest we go to the kitchen, Commander, and get a fire going. We should find something to eat in the pantry."
How would he know that, Eluned puzzled, but knew better than to ask.
The warm glow of the fire soon aided her in her search for food, since the pantry didn't have a window. She found smoked ham, smoked cheese, flour, and a huge pot of butter, which had kept perfectly due to the cold. In another corner were huge sacks of potatoes and cabbages. The only thing that was missing were eggs, she thought with a wistful sigh. She decided on the vegetables and some of the ham, they would make a nice stew.
Who would have thought that all those hours in Nan's kitchen would ever be good for something? Absent-mindedly she started to peel and cut the potatoes, settling on a bench near the fire, but keeping her distance from Loghain. Nan had made the elves in the kitchen work hard and tremble with fear, but she had never dismissed any of them if they had been sick or weakened with age. And come Feastday she had always made a special meal for all the servants, not only the human ones. Sometimes she had sneaked down to the kitchens for a while to escape all the celebratory humdrum, and Nan had given sat her down in a corner where she was out of the way and had made her peel potatoes – and then, as a reward, she had given her some of her special pastry. It was nothing spectacular, just dough, and some of the tough winter apples, some raisins, and a dash of Highever Whiskey, but Eluned found it divine. The other nobles who invariably came to visit turned up their noses at something that simple, but she knew that at least her brother shared her taste.
"Eluned?"
She turned her head into Loghain's direction, uttering a quiet "Hm?"
"I was asking if you learned how to cook on your travels. It just never occurred to me to ask before, but you seem quite at home in a kitchen. I find that curious; you are the daughter of a Teyrn, after all."
"Nan taught me," Eluned answered and swallowed. Saying it out loud made her throat close up and brought tears to her eyes, even now, almost two years later. "She was head of our kitchen. But before that she used to be my nursemaid, so we remained close. She was... she was a bit like a second mother to me, one who was more down to earth, and more concerned with basic things. It was she who taught me the few practical skills I know, like cooking and mending – and she actually was the one who gave me The Talk. Mother was always very vague, saying that as a noble maiden I wasn't supposed to concern myself with such things before my marriage."
She turned back to her potato to hide her blush. She wasn't a virgin any more, but only just. One stolen moment hardly made one experienced, she thought. She really regretted saying anything about this at all – it made the thing they were both ignoring that much more noticeable; but the words had simply rushed out, unstoppable, like flood breaking through a dike.
"Looks like we'll spend Feastday on the road," she said, trying to change the direction of their conversation.
"Yes," came the dry reply, "It does look that way. Move over, I'll help with the cabbage."
They had both shed their cloaks and armour, setting them out to dry. Now they sat right next to each other on the bench in their tunics and breeches, and Eluned was very aware of the heat Loghain gave off.
"Won't the owner mind us using their house and their food?" asked, finally voicing her doubts.
"I doubt it," Loghain bit out in return, expertly shredding the cabbage, moving on to the ham next.
Soon the stew was bubbling merrily on the fire, and Loghain went upstairs to get their rooms ready while she watched the hearth.
She had just added another log and turned back around, when she almost jumped out of her skin.
There was a woman standing near the kitchen table, looking at her.
"Oh, hello. I didn't hear you come in. Does this house belong to you? I'm sorry if we're intruding, and we will of course compensate you for the trouble of putting us up," she said politely, acutely aware of how rude their intrusion was.
The woman didn't say anything, just smiled sadly at her.
The stew hissed, and Eluned quickly moved to pull the lid away to keep it from boiling over, and when she turned around again, the woman was gone.
Loghain entered then.
"I heard your voice. Who were you talking to?" he asked.
Shaken, Eluned replied, "There was a woman standing just over there. I swear, I saw her, but now it seems like she's vanished."
"A woman? What did she look like?"
"Taller than me, but not as tall as you. Simple dress, blue and white. She had a very beautiful face, still fairly young, I suppose. Certainly not much older than thirty. Her hair was dark and in a single braid, falling over her right shoulder. Her eyes were blue, I think. And she had this strange, sad smile. I asked if the house was hers, but she didn't answer. Loghain, what is it? You are quite pale."
Loghain sat down heavily at the kitchen table.
"You just described my mother. This is what she looked like on the last day she was alive. I've seen her too, now and again, but she never speaks to me. I don't know why she's haunting this house, why she still isn't at peace."
Eluned gaped at him.
"Your mother? But then... this is your house, isn't it?"
He nodded.
"Yes. This is the house my parents and I lived in until the Orlesians killed her and drove us off. I told you what happened that day... it is a miracle that the house wasn't burned down. After Maric had finally reclaimed the throne, I returned and found it still empty. It was mine, and I knew that I could never live here again, but I couldn't bring myself to sell the land either. So I made a deal with my neighbour. He and his family would keep the house in order and the pantry stocked, and in return they got to use my lands and keep what they grew on it. I've stayed here now and again when travelling between Gwaren and Denerim, but not all that often."
Eluned turned to stir the stew, her jaw hanging open. This was his home. He had been a boy here.
"Of course, technically it belongs to you now, seeing that the Crown has awarded you with all my earthly possessions." Loghain added a moment later.
Eluned shook her head.
"No. it is yours. I could never take the place of your childhood away from you; I might just as soon take your maps. I am... quite honoured that you allow me to be a guest in your home," she said, and Loghain snorted.
"Not that I had much choice," he replied in his trademark acerbic humour. "Eluned, this isn't my home any longer. It just used to be. Now don't worry about it any longer."
Eluned settled back at the kitchen table.
"What... what were you like?" she asked him cautiously.
"As a boy?" He asked, and grinned. "Not different from other boys, I expect. My parents loved me, but they didn't allow me to run wild. We used to raise horses here, so most of my youthful exuberance was spent training yearlings. We were simple folk, but not poor. Both my parents were literate, but it was my mother who taught me. I learned other things from my father. There is a lovely little pond just half a mile away; I used to take a horse there and go for a swim in the summer. I swam out into the middle and lay on my back, looking into the sky, while everything was quiet around me," he said, his voice deep and wistful.
Eluned told him about Nan's pastries and about hiding in her kitchen, wanting to share something of her own childhood in return.
Loghain raised his eyebrows.
"She wasn't from Highever, wasn't she?" he asked, "This dish is a very local one. My mother used to make it too. She always shooed me out of the kitchen, because I would gorge myself on the raisins when she wasn't looking."
Eluned just shrugged. She had never thought about Nan's life before coming to the castle, and Nan had never talked about it. Her mother had always been very protective about her, Eluned mused, and it seemed that they had known each other a long time. Both Bryce and Eleanor had fought with the Rebellion in their youth, actually they had met there, the son of a Teyrn and the daughter of a Bann, the last of her family. Maybe they had known Nan even then, maybe there was a story there. But everyone involved had taken it with them to their graves.
Eventually the soup was done, and Eluned and Loghain had a silent, but not awkward meal. The warmth of the soup spread through her body, reaching all those places the fire of the hearth hadn't managed to warm. In consequence Eluned started to feel rather drowsy and could barely keep her eyes open when Loghain led her to a bedroom.
"There is no heating up here, I'm afraid, and the bed will be quite cold," he apologized, but Eluned waved him off.
"I'm not a gentle flower. I've had worse than a cold bed. It'll be fine. Truth be told, I'm rather glad I'll have a bed at all."
She kicked off her boots as Loghain left the room, and was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
...
The first thing Eluned heard when she opened her eyes in the next morning were muffled curses. Curious what would make her companion turn the air blue in that manner, she got up, washed quickly with icy water, and went downstairs.
"Loghain?"
The man in front of her stopped his rapid pacing and looked up.
"Hm, what?"
Raising an eyebrow, Eluned smirked at him.
"That would have been my question. What has you so out of sorts?"
"We're snowed in. There's no way we could hope to get through this on our own. Stuck. We're stuck," he growled at her.
"Oh. I'll go and make tea, shall I?" she asked. When in doubt, have tea; at least that had been her mother's approach to most problems. It had worked, too.
Snowed in. Well, that at least explained why it was so dark on the ground-floor; the snow probably covered the windows. They were glass, she noticed, quite lavish for a farmhouse. So either Loghain's family had been quite wealthy, or he had them put in later.
He joined her in the kitchen a moment later.
"Do you think you can manage bread? I can manage camp fire cooking, but I'm afraid I never got the hang of baking."
"Depends on whether I can find some yeast somewhere," Eluned answered with a shrug, "It'll be noodles and pastries otherwise. I only need butter and sugar for that kind of dough."
They shared the last bit of bread from their packs over breakfast, drinking the strong, dark tea Loghain favoured.
The next few hours were spent checking and repairing gear. Later, Eluned took another look about the pantry and discovered a small jar of yeast and some apples and raisins. Going back to the kitchen she set out to make some bread – and one of Nan's pastries. The only ingredient she still needed was the Whiskey...
"In the cupboard, on your left."
Eluned jumped and whirled around at the sound of the voice.
It was her, the woman she'd seen yesterday.
"You are making Feastday Pie, aren't you? The Whiskey is in the cupboard," she said with a friendly smile.
Eluned swallowed.
"I... yes. Thank you."
How very strange this conversation was. And this beautiful, friendly woman had been ... was? Was the mother of the man now serving as her Second – a man with a perpetual scowl etched into his face, who was usually curt to the point of rudeness, Eluned thought, as she took the Whisky out of the cupboard. She turned back around, intending to ask another question, but the woman had vanished again.
And the pie... silently she counted the days in her mind. Oh. Tomorrow. Feastday was tomorrow. She hadn't realized, because it was usually Loghain who took care of such matters when they travelled together, and she had left her journal at home.
Oh dear.
She could understand Loghain's unease to an extent – spending Feastday in this house must be difficult for him. She had no idea how she'd cope stuck in Highever. All alone, surrounded by ghosts. Eluned herself would rather be on the road again too; this was the first Feastday without her family, when there wasn't an Archdemon screaming in her head, with none of her trusted friends there to comfort her. Alistair had been mostly useless a year ago, maybe because he didn't know what it was like to have a family, maybe because he didn't really care. Leliana had been the one who held her as she cried, who had lifted her spirits with silliness and joyful songs.
And Loghain... she wasn't sure he'd suffer her bouts of sadness. He was always so controlled; the only emotion he ever really allowed to show was impatience. The thought that he would see her vulnerable like that made her very uncomfortable.
Well, the only way to avoid these feelings was keeping her hands busy. So she made two kinds of dough, one with yeast and water for the bread, and one with butter and sugar for the pie.
She had just sat down to peel the apples she needed, enjoying the heady aroma of the raisins soaking in the whiskey, when Loghain entered the kitchen, making a beeline for the fire and perching on a stool.
"What's the matter?" Eluned asked confusedly, taking in his soaked clothes and frozen fingers.
"I cleared a path to the outhouse. Almost had to dig a tunnel."
"Oh."
Eluned had done her business in the chamberpot so far, but the outhouse was definitely better during the day. She just hoped that Loghain hadn't needed to dig through the snow where she had emptied it out of the window.
"Not a problem you're used to having, isn't it?" he teased her.
Doing something constructive always put him into a better mood, she'd noticed, but since that better mood was still varying shades of surly, that was only relative.
"No, indeed. Highever castle has privies. And later... well, the forests don't exactly have outhouses either."
"Yes, I remember," Loghain said with a strange little smile on his face. "I spent the better part of my youth in the wilds."
Eluned nodded.
"I know. My father told me a lot about the Rebellion. Whenever my mother didn't want me to learn a certain skill, be it fighting or cooking, my father reminded her that there were no guaranties – and that if I wanted to learn something, I'd be allowed to do so. And in the end he was right."
Loghain nodded, rubbing his hands before spreading them out towards the fire again.
"Bryce was a wise man. We had our differences, certainly, but we usually worked well together. When you arrived at Ostagar and told what had happened... I was dismayed."
Eluned forced her hands into adding cubed ham and cheese to the dough before forming even loaves.
"Yet you still backed Howe. You kept him as your ally."
Loghain snorted and turned to look at her.
"Well, of course! What would you have me do? Alienating the man in control of the northern half of the country while the southern half decided to rebel? I needed him. That's the ugly truth. He was my friend once, but something in him had become twisted and inhuman. In my heart of hearts I was glad you killed him and spared me the trouble, even as I was trying to defeat you at the Landsmeet," he said, pausing to rub his face. "But we've been over this before. This is useless. I'm tired, Eluned. Sometimes I'm so very tired of everything."
"I know," she said quietly. "I am too. So... maybe being stuck here isn't all that bad? Maybe we're just given something we'd never give ourselves? Some peace and quiet? Some time to come to terms with... with everything?"
Maybe even with this thing that had been hovering between them; silently and unsaid? Something inside of her was trying to reach out to him, only she was afraid to let it.
Loghain just nodded and moved aside to let her place the loaves into the oven.
"I'll make another fire downstairs, so the cambers won't be as cold as yesterday. I'll be upstairs after, checking the roof," he said, leaving the kitchen.
She couldn't find the will to scold him for pinching a few of the raisins as he went.
The bread and the pastry turned out pretty well; at least by the look of them, all golden brown and delicious. The pastry and all but one loaf went into the pantry – the pastry would be better tomorrow anyway, when the ingredients had developed their whole flavour.
They had the fresh bread with some of the creamy, yellow butter in the evening, and retired to their rooms afterwards.
And Eluned couldn't sleep. She wasn't as exhausted as she'd been the day before, and now she was acutely aware of lying in a strange bed, in a house whose shapes and night-time noises were unfamiliar to her. Thoughts and memories haunted her as they always did in the nights when she could find no sleep. Idly she wondered if her eyes were going to look like Loghain's soon, tired, and with purple bags beneath them.
How did her brother deal with all this, she wondered. He had lost so much more that night than she had. How could he get over the loss of his wife and son? Still, he had returned to Highever and taken up his duties as Teyrn without hesitation. Was he as haunted as she was?
She turned towards the window wishing that Loghain's solid bulk was next to her. That he was sleeping right by her side, as he had during the rest of their journey. She missed his warmth, and the sound of his quiet breathing.
Eluned opened her eyes to check the position of the moon, when she noticed the slightly translucent form of Loghain's mother standing in front of the window.
"Go to him," she said, gesturing towards the chamber door.
Eluned gaped at her.
"I... I can't just go to him. He'd... he wouldn't want me to. He never... he wouldn't..."
"Go to him."
Eluned debated with herself, clutching at the thick, downy covers. Could she risk it? This fragile friendship that she needed so much? But she was so miserable. So lonely, so tired.
"Go to him."
Biting her lip, Eluned nodded and got up, shivering as the cold air in the chamber hit her exposed limbs. She wasn't naked, but she might as well be in the thin shift she wore for modesty's sake. Some habits were hard to shake, even after almost two years of travelling in mixed company, where modesty and privacy were quickly sacrificed for practicality's sake. She tiptoed to the door and opened it, creeping across the hallway to the one she knew Loghain was staying behind.
After taking a deep breath, Eluned quietly pressed down on the handle. If he was asleep, she definitely didn't want to wake him; just sit near him for a little while, and then go back to her own bed.
She noticed that both his rooms and bed were smaller than hers – he had given her his parents' chamber, she realized. So this must be the room he'd inhabited as a boy...
"Eluned?"
His quiet voice almost made her jump out of her own skin.
"Yes, I..."
Eluned couldn't find anything to say. Wrapping her arms around her body, she turned to leave. This had been a stupid idea. He'd never forgive her for intruding like that.
"Eluned, come here," he said in that same, calm tone. "What is it?"
"Nothing," she answered too quickly, swallowing around the lump in her throat.
The bedding rustled behind her, and a moment later big, warm hands grabbed her shoulders and turned her around.
The silent, ignored thing that always hovered around them became overbearing. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his chest, breathing in the familiar fragrance of his skin. He was naked, she realized, her face flushing red.
"Yes, I'm sure it was nothing that made you come to my room in the middle of the night," he said, a hint of his usual impatience creeping into his words.
"I'm sorry. This was a stupid idea. I'll go," Eluned mumbled, beyond mortified, trying to twist her shoulders out of his grasp.
"Oh no, you won't," Loghain rasped, his arms sliding around her. "We can go down to the kitchen where it's warmer, or you can join me in my bed. Whichever you choose, you are going to tell me what's bothering you."
The warmth of his body seeped into her cold skin, and she relaxed against him.
"You're an icicle. Come," he said, and a few moments later she found herself ensconced in his warm bed, her head on his shoulder.
"I couldn't sleep. Couldn't get these thoughts about my family out of my head. Back home... back home we'd get up by now, to be at the Chantry at dawn. We'd pray, and then have a wonderful meal with the local parishioners... we'd bring most of the food, of course. The chantry is very fond of charity, if they don't need to do it themselves. Then we'd return to the castle, and wait for the important guests to arrive. And I'd sneak down to the kitchens. To Nan."
Eluned's voice broke, and she stopped speaking.
Loghain pulled her closer, rubbing her back.
"My parents and I would go to the Chantry too," he said, his voice a gentle rumble against her ear. "If we weren't snowed in like now, which happened quite often. We'd sit in the kitchen, having the most lavish meal of the year, with a roast, chestnuts and various other dishes. And the pie, of course. My mother would sing songs, and my father would watch her with a smile on his face. We'd talk about silly, inconsequential things, as families do. Sometimes, if the roads were clear, we'd have visitors. And then there would be ale and Whiskey, and everyone would get a little drunk. If it was just us, we'd have a quiet day. My mother would read or sew, my father would potter around in the shed a bit, and I would tend to the horses. Simple, peaceful things."
Eluned smiled, her fingers daintily moving through the wiry hair on his chest. She felt quite drowsy now, warm, and comfortable. The last thing she felt before she went to sleep were his lips brushing her forehead.
...
Eluned woke to gentle kisses. When she opened her eyes, Loghain moved back a little to look at her face.
"Good morning," he said, his voice still husky with sleep.
Smiling shyly Eluned trailed her fingertips down his cheek.
"Good morning," she replied.
"I wanted to do this every time I found you cuddled up to me in the morning," he said with a wry smile and bent down for another kiss.
"Eluned..."
"Yes?"
"Do you want to..."
Eluned grinned up at him, feeling flushed and giddy.
"Yes. Yes, I want to. I have for a while," she admitted.
"So, does that mean I get to unwrap my Feastday-present?"
Things had gravitated to this point for months, Eluned realized, and the outcome was quite inevitable.
"If you like," she answered, grinning like a fool.
"Oh, yes indeed," Loghain purred and slowly pushed up her shift, his eyes hungrily devouring every inch of creamy flesh bared to his gaze.
He was magnificent, Eluned thought, always confident and unflappable, even when completely thrown for a loop like after the Landsmeet. He may have lost everything, but he had always retained his dignity.
Loghain's mouth trailed over her stomach, and she sighed and closed her eyes, her fingers finding the nape of his neck to caress. He was as careful and attentive with her as with everything he did. Her hands twisted in his hair when his lips closed around her left nipple, and her pelvis rose to meet him, as if desperate for contact.
He pulled the shift over her head but left her hands tangled in it, positioning them near the headboard.
"My turn," he said with a devilish grin that made Eluned shiver and her sheath clench.
One hand supported his weight, the other found it's way between her legs, while his lips returned to hers. It was strangely liberating to set aside the Commander and let him lead, trusting him with everything she had, body and soul. She knew him well enough by now to know that, once decided, he'd never waver.
His mouth and fingers led her to the edge again and again, leaving her hanging each time, until she was panting and keening with need. She was completely out of her mind with lust – who would have thought that it could be like this?
He entered her and she tensed, needing time to adjust, which he granted. But then his clever fingers were back on her most sensitive spot, and she wrapped her legs around him.
A few thrusts and she was over the edge; but he didn't relent, drove her further along, the feeling of his length inside her almost too intense to be pleasurable, almost painful. Almost.
Her hands came free of her shift as she peaked a second time, her teeth sinking into his shoulder and her nails into his back.
Afterwards she just lay on her back, wide eyed and panting, staring unseeingly at the ceiling, until Loghain pulled her into his arms.
"I hope I managed to convince you to let me do that again," he said in his usual wry humour, but his voice was gentle.
"Oh yes," Eluned answered, "but next time I get to drive you out of your mind like that."
"Whatever you want, love, whatever you want," Loghain replied, and they stayed like this for a long while, too satisfied, too boneless and drowsy to move.
But their Grey Warden stomachs drove them out of their bed soon enough. They dressed and went to the kitchen, where they had their version of the Feast. Roasted slices of the bread Eluned had baked, and, of course, the Feastday pie. The taste of the simple dish awakened memories in both of them, Eluned could see.
"I think this may just be the best Feastday I ever had," Loghain mused, serving himself another slice. "I hope you'll make this pie every year from now."
Eluned smiled at him as only a woman in love can smile.
"Yes, I certainly will. But you stay away from the raisins."
"Make me," he teased in return.
There was a knock on the door, and Loghain went to let in an old farmer and his wife.
"...saw the fire," the man said, letting his wife proceed him into the kitchen. "Thought it might be some traveller in trouble. But it's good to see you back here, Your Grace. All the farmers around helped clearing the roads a little, as always... it isn't as bad as this over on our end."
Loghain just shook his head.
"I go by my name now. Call me Warden, if you absolutely need to use a title. This is Eluned Cousland, my Commander."
"Commander, eh? Right. Mabel, my wife. I'm Ian," he introduced himself and the rotund, apple-cheeked woman standing at his side, holding a basket.
And it was as Loghain had told her last night, they ate, sang and made merry, and everyone got a little drunk.
And somewhere in the house, a ghostly woman smiled and faded away.